Aural Aggravation

Christopher Nosnibor

This isn’t the first time Man of Moon have supported The Twilight Sad, but is the first time The Twilight Sad have sold out the Brudenell in advance, and it’s a solid indication of their increasing cult following. North of the border, they’re immense, capable of selling out a two-night residency at Glasgow Barrowlands in hours, highlighting the fact that Scotland is very much a different country with a strong national identity and a strong backing for home-grown bands. And in the case of the Sad, a band Robert Smith has personally selected to support The Cure here, there, and everywhere, particularly in the US, they deserve every success and to be selling out massive venues. But it’s obviously pretty special to be able to see a band this wonderful up close still.

It’s pretty special to see Man of Moon, too. They’ve certainly evolved over the years they’ve ben existence, and have expanded their sound and repertoire considerably, but without betraying their roots or initial intentions.

The set begins with jittery percussion and jarring, stuttering guitar. Vocal whoops and yelps owe as much to Suicide, who’s ‘Ghostrider’ was on just before they came on to. The intense duo soon lock into motorik spacey psych grooves. They’re more solid more muscular than ever, no doubt benefiting from the Brude’s PA. Switching guitar for bass after the third song, the set takes a turn for the darker and less spacey. Newer song ‘The Rust’ is sparse and haunting, with drum machine beats and picked guitar, building to an emotional tempest, while ‘Skin’ embraces electro with a danceable industrial edge and closer ‘Strangers’ also hints at early New Order with hints of DAF and a psych hue. It’s a killer set that goes down a storm with a room that’s already packed.

Man of Moon

The Twilight Sad’s relationship with The Brudenell stretches back to the early days of their career, and it was here I first saw them, on the recommendation of a friends, who’s here tonight, and was blown away. Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters was a solid debut, but none of it prepared me for the sonic force of the live show.

Over twelve or so years and more shows than I can honestly count, The Twilight Sad have emerged as one of the most incredible live acts going. A few years ago, I likened seeing them to how I imagined Joy Division in their heyday. Someone thoughtfully posted an anonymous comment calling me a cunt for this analogy, but I stand by it completely, especially in light of tonight’s performance.

The Twilight Sad

James is on good form, and while he’s not a chatter, confessing that his banter is ‘shite’ and steering clear of preachiness because he ‘isnae fucking Bono’ the yells of ‘we love you’ from the crowd are precisely because of his self-effacing demeanour and the band’s overt lack of ego. The players just play and there’s no pretence or posturing about Graham’s performance: he is so much the real deal, the performer who channels every inch of his mental and physical energy into every performance.

James is obviously the focal point, and he doesn’t stay still for a second. His intensity is unmatched as he pounces and pirouettes around the stage, eyes closed, sometimes perilously close to the edge, often dangerously close to tripping over leads or other kit. And this is no act: he relives every line of his most anguished lyrics, and every line pours pain of some sort or another. But none of this would work without everything else: Andy Macfarlane’s guitar carves heart-rending sonic sculptures, while the rhythm section is a powerhouse and the synths add all the texture. It’s not about the individual elements, though: the elements combine to forge something far greater than the parts.

The last time they played the Brudenell – a venue James effuses about at length, expressing his love for a place that supported the band in their early days when few venues would – was a couple of years ago, ahead of the release of the latest album and their supporting The Cure all over everywhere. Then, they showcased some new songs, and it wasn’t entirely certain what would be done with them. Now, touring It Won’t Be Like This All the Time, the songs are well embedded with band and fans alike, and have been road-worn to perfection to form the basis of a set built around said album. It Won’t Be Like This All the Time may be monumentally bleak, a soundtrack to depression and self-loathing, but it’s also the perfect distillation of everything the band have done in their career to date, bringing together their raw guitar sound with their electronic ventures and their Cure-inspired pop ponderances, and every one is brimming with raw emotion and passion from the heart.

When they do delve into the back catalogue, for ‘Reflection of the Television’, ‘Girl in the Corner’, and ‘Last January’, these are supremely intense moments and carefully selected. Forget the Night Ahead is largely ignored, while No-One Can Ever Know is bypassed completely, but with the catalogue they now have, this is no issue.

Standalone single ‘Wrong Car’ makes an appearance near the end of the set, alongside ‘Cold days from the Birdhouse’ and the standard set finale, ‘And She Would Darken the Memory’. Emotional intensity may be unquantifiable, but the physical energy that goes into the set is, and the band are visibly drained by the end. James is evidently exhausted, soaked in sweat and struggling to stand, and the rest of the band depart in a howl of feedback as he sits cross-legged, fingers in eyelids. Finally, he drags himself up, smiles and waves, leaving to rapturous applause.

The Twilight Sad

On the basis of over a decade of previous performance, it would be almost impossible to believe they could get any better, any stronger sounding any more intense. And yet, here we are: five albums in, and in 2019, The Twilight Sad go from strength to strength to reach new pinnacles.